


The Games

by stormy1x2



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace is a good kid, Action/Adventure, Games, M/M, Protectiveness, Showing Off, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormy1x2/pseuds/stormy1x2
Summary: Ace gets to compete on Game-On Island! Marco is not pleased, Izou is amused, Thatch is having hysterics and overall, it is decided that yes, Ace is a good kid. Established Ace/Marco, some (quick) animal deaths, Ace gets to show off his outdoor skills.





	The Games

 

 **Notes:** Pre-Marineford, obviously, but also before Thatch's death. Ace is nineteen or so here.

 

* * *

_The Games_

* * *

 

 

 

Ever since arriving on Game-On Island, Marco had been alternating between sulking and worrying. The fact that Whitebeard had told them he wanted to study a jewelled box being offered as a prize in that month's main tournament, and needed one of his sons to compete was not the problem. It was that before he could offer to be the one, Ace had stepped up and eagerly demanded to compete.

Ace was about to be (not that he was aware of it) the Second Division's newest Commander, but that didn't mean he should risk himself in the game of which they knew very little about. Marco would be much happier if a more experienced Commander – such as himself – was made to compete.

Whitebeard had laughed, and reminded Marco that the island was famous for its monthly tournament. People could be injured, and yes, once in a while accidental deaths could occur, but the game runners did provide constant monitoring (both for safety reasons, and so the games could be broadcast to the nearby islands, who paid for the privilege of being able to watch them) and provided emergency treatment (though if a competitor needed it during the competition, they were first eliminated). They wanted a steady stream of people to try each month – they didn't need to kill people to draw competition. It was the main source of entertainment in these waters.

Marco had made Ace promise to be careful and to take it seriously. Ace had sealed his promise with a kiss, and Marco was just going to have to trust him.

The referee of the games was a relaxed-looking man, likely in his late thirties or early forties, lean but wiry. His black and white uniform stood out next to Ace's half-nudity and his opponents woolly fur clothing. He spoke calmly into a Den Den Microphone that broadcasted his words through speakers placed around the island, and through the visual Den Dens on the surrounding islands.

“You choose two conditions, and we choose one.”

Marco folded his arms and bit his lip, watching as Ace practically vibrated in place alongside the other competitor that had been chosen from the other pirate crew to land on the island – the Savage Pirates. Ace was a strong young man, but his opponent looked like he was half Kingdew and half Fossa – incredibly big for a full human (probably seven and a half feet if Marco had to guess), heavily muscled, and bristling with wiry black hair all over. Thick heavy brows beetled over dulled, squinty eyes.

He clearly outweighed Ace by a huge margin, which was intimidating. Not that size or strength meant a lot in this match – they were not fighting against each other. They were racing. _Still._... Marco furrowed his brow at the gorilla-shaped man. His arms were thick and hung down to almost his knees, indicating all his power was contained in the upper body – Marco noted the thinner, shorter legs. No. This was not a man built for speed, at any rate.

“Choose your field.”

There were many fields. There was a volcano field, brimming with sulfer and fires spouting off every where, hard crusts of magma providing numerous hiding places, mountains and pitfalls. It was hot and steamy and hard to see through the smoke. Fire-breathing creatures of all types hid themselves in the caves and fire pools, ready to attack. Because of it containing some of the harshest conditions, the volcano field was also the smallest playing field. Many competitors wound up choosing it for that reason alone, and wound up losing as a result. Many of the serious injuries and the few deaths the games resulted in had been directly the cause of the volcano field.

The ice field wasn't much better. Avalanches and ice spears, Snowy Lapans and ice beasts wandered the crags and hills of the glittery playing ground, and unless one wore eye protection, snow blindness was a very real possibility, not to mention frostbite and hypothermia. You went in with what you had on you – that included any kind of weather gear you did or didn't have. Though with Ace's powers, that wouldn't be too tough for him. It could be a good choice, Marco mused.

Then there was the desert field. It was larger, and reminded Marco of Alabasta. Heat, sunstroke and limited water was the main problem here, and finding the prize amidst all that sand was like finding a needle in a haystack. There were a few sand beasts as well, but they certainly were not the main threat that the environment itself was. It was not one of the easiest playing fields to choose, and he was fairly certain Ace wasn't going to attempt it.

There were half a dozen other fields as well but for most of them, what they lacked in difficulty, they made up for in sheer size - which took far longer to search. Marco considered the fields musingly, wondering what sort of strategy Ace had inside of his head, and which field he would choose.

“Volcano,” grunted the massive Savage pirate. His leathery skin would be an advantage against the heat and fire, Marco thought, assessing the man calmly. Choosing the smallest field with the most danger – he obviously wanted to win fast, and thought he could handle the extreme temperatures.

Marco winced. Like the ice field, he'd thought the volcano course would be perfect for Ace. Turning his head to see Ace's reaction, he was shocked to see that Ace was still smiling eagerly, all but vibrating in place. Marco felt his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Jungle field!” Ace shouted, thrusting a fist into the air. The crowd roared their approval, obviously taking a liking to the enthusiastic young competitor. Marco blinked at Ace's choice.

“Smart,” said Jozu, with apparent approval.

The jungle field was nearly as small as the volcano field, because it was crammed full with venomous oversized insects, massive beasts, carnivorous plants, and maze upon maze of vine riddled trees and plant life. It was the field that provided the third largest number of injuries or deaths in the history of the Games after the volcano and the desert. _Jozu's right, though_ , Marco thought, perking up. _Ace ha_ _s_ _a definite advantage there with his powers._

“Condition one: a sea stone bracelet for devil fruit eaters. Ankle bracelets weighing one quarter your registered body weight if not.”

 _Shit._ There went that advantage.

Ace hopped forward. “Devil fruit,” he chirped, holding out one arm expectantly, smiling widely.

The referee smiled at the childish excitement and turned to face an elderly woman in long, dark robes who had stepped forward. She held a stone in her gnarled hands. It glowed a soft green. “True,” she said softly, inclining her head. Ace beamed at her, and she smiled back at him, obviously amused at his enthusiasm.

The bracelet was attached by the referee. Marco waited to see the usual effects – Ace was particularly sensitive to sea stone – but was surprised to see Ace standing there blinking at the bracelet, flexing his fingers. “What...”

“These bracelets are specially made,” said the referee. “We try to create fairness in our rules. We want to block the abilities and advantages your devil fruit gives you, but without the weakness or dizziness that usually comes with that.” He waved to the audience. “They wish to see strong competition, not sick fruit eaters collapsing to the ground.”

“Cool,” Ace said, twisting his arm back and forth. “I feel fine, I just can't summon any fire.”

The referee nodded and turned to the man Marco decided to just call 'Brute' in his head. The gruff man grumbled, “Weights.”

The woman's ball glowed green. “True.”

A set of ankle weights was produced and attached. The referee checked his papers. “Your registered weight is four hundred and forty pounds.” He looked at a slender young man who stood behind the woman with the ball, and he stepped forward.

“One hundred and ten pound weight,” he said, holding his hand out. The ankle weights glowed, and Brute growled as he stumbled slightly. The young man bowed. “I ate the Weight-Weight fruit,” he said. “The weight shall remain constant until you are either eliminated or victorious.” As though to provide proof, a scale was revealed nearby and the referee asked Brute to stand on it so they could record the weight as proof. He grudgingly stomped over, growling at anyone who accidentally touched him. The young man kept carefully back behind the referee.

Marco ignored the Brute and focused back on Ace who was still grinning with excitement, even though he'd just lost a major part of his arsenal.

“Why's he so happy?” Thatch asked in a low voice, sidling up to Marco. “I figured he chose the jungle field so he could burn it to ash and find the prize, but he still looks like a kid in a candy store.”

“I'm not sure,” Marco murmured. There had to be something they were missing.

The referee brought the two of them back to the podium and a large platform, covered in a large woven blanket was brought out. At a hand signal from the referee, two young men pulled the covering off, revealing a wide variety of weapons. Guns, swords, daggers and maces, cat o-nine-tails, whips, axes, chains, even shields were spread out across the gigantic platform, glinting in the light. The sheer amount of leather, rock and metal on display was staggering. There were weapons there that Marco couldn't even identify – strange, warped amalgamations of steel and stone. Jozu let out a low whistle at the sight.

The referee waved his hand at the bounty. “Choose your weapon.”

Brute clomped across the grounds and stepped onto the platform, which shook under his weight. Apparently there was no doubt in his likely very small mind as to what he wanted to use, and Marco nudged Thatch who spread his hands, indicating a large weapon.

Sure enough, Brute didn't waste any time poking through the small stuff. He went straight for a large and heavily weighted battle axe that had a chain mace attached at the bottom of the handle, picking it up and giving it a hard swing with one hand, the other holding the mace back. He grunted in what was apparent approval, and then clomped off the platform, scowling at Ace who bounded past him without a look.

“That was a fairly obvious choice,” Jozu commented from Marco's other side. “What do you think Ace will choose?”

Thatch stroked his chin thoughtfully. “One of the daggers, maybe? He's frighteningly good with the one he usually carries with him.”

“It would be useful,” Marco agreed. A dagger would help cut through the vegetation and provide something to attack and defend himself from the animals lurking inside the jungle. “I just hope he doesn't choose something that he thinks looks 'cool' and sticks to what he knows.”

Ace reached the platform and leaped onto it with a whoop. He scanned the platform curiously, eyes taking in the bounty before him. To the surprise of his crew members, he bypassed the daggers with barely a glance, and scanned the stranger weapons out of what looked like pure curiosity. Marco bit back a smile as Ace's nose wrinkled in confusion over one weapon; he could just tell by the teen's expression that he was trying to figure out what the actual purpose of it was. The young man crouched down, poking a gem on the side of what appeared to be a stone handle while twitching his head to one side, looking vaguely like a confused parakeet.

“He just has to touch everything, doesn't he?” Atmos's deep bass rumbled out, and Thatch started laughing.

Ace shook his head, apparently giving up on the stone, and then began searching the weapons for something he could actually wield. He snickered at the selection of whips and chains, picking one up, turning to the crowd and raising an eyebrow while giving a deliberately salacious wink. The crowd roared with laughter, and some screams and few howls – and not just from the ladies. Ace cracked the whip once just right, caught the tail with his free hand and then poked the brim of his cowboy hat up with the handle as he posed.

A group of young women screamed in joy. Someone threw an entire billfold of bellie at him and Ace caught it, gave it a kiss, and then tossed it back with a brilliant smile.

The crowd went wild. The Whitebeard Pirates couldn't help but join in with the laughter and cheers. That flashy style was Ace, after all. The local film crew that handled the games seemed to agree and the large view screens transmitting to the stadium and surrounding islands showed almost nothing but Fire Fist Ace. Poor Brute was barely shown at all.

It was outright favouritism. Marco certainly wasn't going to complain and was vaguely contemplating buying a whip for future experimentation. Izou had a hand over his eyes.

“He certainly knows how to work a crowd,” Fossa said from behind Marco, chuckling around the cigar he perpetually kept in his mouth.

“Yeah, you can't really call him shy, can you?” Thatch shook his head, grinning at the antics of their youngest crew member.

Still laughing from the crowd's response, Ace set the whip down and spun around, searching. Then he straightened up, apparently spotting something he liked. He hopped over a wide selection of both metal and wooden hammers and landed next to a display of what looked like steel bars.

“If he wants to use a bo staff, why not the ones down there with the leather handles?” Curiel mused thoughtfully. “It would give him a better grip.”

“Since when can Ace use a bo staff, is what I want to know,” Thatch said, glowering lightly at their youngest crew member. “I've never seen him use one.”

“Neither have I,” Izou said, watching Ace with a narrowed eye. “Marco?”

Marco shrugged. He knew that Ace used a metal staff as a kid with his brothers – tales accidentally spilled during Ace's more inebriated moments (talking about the youngest brother always made Ace smile, but Ace needed to be drunk before he could talk about his other brother without crying), and then clarified upon sobering – but as far as he knew, Ace had never mentioned anything of his childhood to anyone else, and Marco wasn't about to spill his partner's secrets.

Ace picked up one pipe, frowned and immediately discarded it for another. This one he hefted in his hands, examined it and then tossed aside as well. He examined a few others before picking up his next selection. The way he bounced it in his hands told Marco it had some weight to it, and there was an odd fixture on the end that weighted it a bit unevenly. Marco expected Ace to dump it as well, but the fire-brat was smiling softly.

The young man stood up and gave the pipe an experimental twirl. Then all of a sudden, he exploded into motion, spinning the pipe in front of him, over his head, passing it behind his back and striking hard at an unseen enemy for a finish. The crowd cheered at the flashy moves.

“Soooo.... who else did not see that coming?” Thatch wondered out loud.

“I bet Marco knew,” Izou said accusingly, poking Marco's arm with his decorated fan.

Marco shrugged. “I had an idea.”

Jozu squinted his eyes. “He does handle it very well,” he professed, sounding somewhat impressed.

Ace hopped off the stage and joined Brute back with the officials who recorded their weapons. Then two young women walked onto the field. One, a very pretty brunette wearing a sparkling yellow bikini top and a long flowing skirt of the same color, curtsied before Brute. The other, an equally pretty pinkette wearing the same outfit but in a sparkly light blue, did the same before Ace.

Marco snorted with amusement as Ace's cheeks flushed bright red.

Izou chuckled. “Ace and women. That just never stops being entertaining.”

It certainly didn't. It was one of the reasons why Marco always accompanied Ace to medical – well, to see that, and to make sure Ace actually went. His habit of flushing bright red every time one of the nurses came near him – and his subsequent dash from them - was a perpetual source of amusement to the other commanders, and the main reason Whiskey was his personal medic. The short-haired brunet like to consider herself more battle axe than seductress and instead of using her womanly charms to manipulate a patient, she used her masterful control over armament haki to hold them down. Ace responded better to that then anything the other nurses tried.

Thatch had once mused that it was like Ace had almost zero experience with the opposite sex – not relationship-wise, but in even just basic interactions. He seemed to be almost afraid of polite, genteel, or beautiful women, responding with more enthusiasm to brash older barmaids and tough ladies like Whiskey and Whitey Bay. Marco had simply decided that as long as he had Ace's affections, he didn't care much who the younger man interacted with as long as his appointments remained with Whiskey. He'd rather Ace save his blushes for him in the bedroom then spend them on the nurses.

Even if it was entertaining.

The two young ladies were the escorts to their respective fields of choice. The pinkette led Ace to a small portal that led to the jungle field. Marco couldn't remember the Devil Fruit that created these little pockets of differing ecosystems, but it had to admit it was a pretty powerful and useful ability. He tipped his head up and squinted at the screens overhead – half of them showing the jungle field, and half of them showing the lava. Each screen was at a different angle, suggesting that several Den Den Mushi screens had been placed in various locations. There was also a hovering Den Den; a snail attached to a trained eagle that was ordered to tail the competitors.

The judge's microphone crackled with static. “Are our competitors ready?”

Ace cheered, bouncing in place, pumping a fist into the air. The crowd roared with him. Brute looked like he didn't even hear the judge, staring ahead towards his portal with laser-like focus.

The mike crackled again. “Is everyone ready?”

The crowd was on its feet and the noise nearly blocked out the final call from the judge ordering the competitors to get moving. Brute lumbered forward into his volcanic world, and Ace cartwheeled off his platform, landing with a smooth drop into the forest zone.

Marco rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

o0o

* * *

 

 

 

Ace jogged along the path, keeping one ear cocked on the rustle he could hear following him on an angle. It was low to the ground and heavy – thick branches, not just leaves were getting brutally pushed out of the way. The steady cadence of sound told him it had four legs, whatever it was. Anything two-legged would have either high-tailed it up a tree for a better view, or taken to the sky, and there would have been a more steady rush of sound if it were a giant insect.

Ace grinned as he jumped into the air, just as the bushes ahead of him parted to reveal a boar as tall as Kingdew, rushing in his direction. Landing easily on a branch just above the boar's head, Ace pulled the pipe off his back and gave it a quick twirl as he let out a lazy whistle.

The boar looked up as far as it could go, even raising off its front hooves to snarl at him in a froth-covered rage.

Perfect.

 

* * *

o0o

* * *

 

 

 

Marco watched as Ace gave a feral little grin at the giant boar before leaping directly at it, bringing his pipe down like a dagger. The force of the blow, coupled with Ace's phenomenal strength, sent the pipe straight through the boar's mouth and into the throat. Without missing a beat, Ace gripped the pipe along the side, giving it a hard wrench as he passed by to land.

A cracking sound echoed throughout the speakers as the neck was completely cracked, and the giant boar, considered to be one of the top five most dangerous animals on the jungle field, was killed in less than ten seconds.

“Okay,” Thatch said after a moment, watching as Ace casually yanked his pole free and moved on. “That is a deplorable waste of good meat.”

“No, it's not,” Izou said, and reached over to bap Thatch's head with a pamphlet. “All animals are ethically raised for these games, and the ones that are killed are retrieved and harvested to be cooked and prepared for feasts on the island after the games. Competitors are encouraged to only kill animals that are attacking them or in self-defense if they accidentally set one off. Senseless kills will be counted against your final score, as will unnecessarily cruel or torturous kills.”

Thatch took the pamphlet as Kingdew rubbed his chin. “I'd say Ace's kill was both self-defense and quick, which should mean he's safe for now.”

Izou nodded. “According to the rules, at least.”

“What about venomous centipedes?” Curiel asked. When everyone looked at him, he pointed at the screen, where Ace had his pole wedged between the deadly pincers dripping venom. “Are they to be harvested as well?”

Izou shuddered as Ace spun around with a quick twist, bringing his pole up and over to stab the centipede through the head to neatly pin it to the forest floor. “Remind me to avoid the banquet if the food is not clearly marked.”

Kingdew and Fossa muffled snickers at that, which they immediately hid when Izou spun around to glare at them.

Marco rolled his eyes. Again.

On the other screen, Brute seemed to have run into a lava-swimming lizard that was sending waves of molten ore at the shoreline of the little lava lake he was circling. Brute moved back and then swung the axe in his hands, hanging on to the chain. The lizards head was swiftly parted from its neck and Brute stomped onwards, ignoring the bubbling of the lava as the body sizzled and sank beneath it.

“Well, _that_ was anti-climactic,” Thatch said with a snort. “No sense of showmanship whatsoever.”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the Whitebeards.

 

* * *

o0o

* * *

 

 

Ace jogged along a riverbank, watching the water warily. Namor was following along carefully, noticing certain ripple patterns that made his heart leap into his throat.

“There's something in the water,” he murmured fitfully to Izou. “See those ripples? That's from a barely-submerged fin or scales.... a big one... there's the pattern following the tail... no, _tails_.”

Izou had no reason to doubt his aquatic-born brother. He sped up his fanning, watching Ace as he paused on a large rock by the water, knowing as well as everyone watching that he was contemplating crossing the river. It wasn't overtly wide – Ace could probably leap it in two jumps if he used one of the stones that randomly jutted out in the middle. But if whatever was waiting for him beneath the surface came out while he was in mid-air, it would be difficult to turn and fight until he landed. And that was if Ace even recognized the ripples in the water as something creature-made, and not the eddies of a lazily swirling tide.

Then he studied Ace's face. His brother was grinning softly to himself, looking for all and sundry to be reminiscing fondly about something long ago rather than preparing for an ambush. Before Izou could mention this worry to anyone else, the water frothed and what had to be the largest crocodile he had ever seen burst from the water, jaws open wide, lunging directly at his air-headed sibling who was about to be eaten--

Or not. Izou's fan clicked shut with a snap in the silence that surrounded him as Ace calmly twirled his pipe and then slammed it into the side of the crocodile so hard it actually picked up and threw the animal across the entire river, landing in a bed of reeds on the opposite shore. The animal was unconscious, and the action had drawn the attention of the rest of its family. There were suddenly dozens of scaly humps and unblinking eyes floating up from the river bed, staring at Ace with baleful malevolence.

Beside him, Marco gave a low chuckle. Izou shot him a quick side-glance. “What is funny about this?”

Marco gestured to the crocodiles on the screen. “Ace once told me about how he and his brothers hunted large crocodiles on their home island. It's Ace's favorite kind of meat.”

“It is?” Thatch chimed in, sticking his face between the two of them. “Ace never told me that! We don't usually stock up on crocodile meat because it's an acquired taste and few people actually like such a gamey flavor.”

“And now you know why he never told you,” Izou said, rapping Thatch's head smartly with his folded fan.

On the screen, Ace was agilely hopping from croc to croc, smacking a few over-eager snouts away that tried to bite at his feet. As he neared the opposite shore, the croc he hit suddenly awoke, and saw Ace bearing down on him, pipe above his head in readiness for an attack, drool leaking down the side of his mouth at the idea of catching his favorite food.

With a terrified growl, the croc pushed itself off the muddy shore and instantly submerged itself, disappearing just as Ace landed where it had been laying moments before. Ace gave a growl of his own, shaking his pipe at the disappearing ripples, demanding they come back “--so I can eat you!”

Thatch started laughing, which set off a chain reaction all the way up to Whitebeard himself, and then Marco was forced to abandon his prime viewing spot to remind his father that he needed to calm down before his hearty laughter accidentally triggered his devil fruit and sent them all into the sea.

 

* * *

o0o

* * *

 

It had been several hour since the games had started, but it hadn't been boring.

Well, Brute had been, but Marco was willing to admit he might be a little bit biased. Just a little. After all, Brute wasn't really doing much except slowly stomping through the brush like a hairy dinosaur, grunting and smashing things in his way. It wasn't very exciting nor interesting.

In contrast, Ace was racing through the trees like he was a monkey himself. He leaped from branch to branch effortlessly, finding grips and toeholds where Marco himself could barely see. Behind him, a troop of over-sized gorillas was dogging his heels but Ace had a huge grin on his face as he swung around the trunk of a vine-riddled tree and came back at the leader, feet first. The leader was slammed backwards into two others, causing the rest of the troop to freak and scatter.

Ace kept his balance as he rode the three unconscious gorillas fifty feet to the ground, bouncing off them just before they hit. The rest of the troop stayed in the trees, chattering and chest-beating in anger, but apparently having their leader taken down had taken the wind out of their sails. Ace stood up, stretched, and then gingerly toed the large one. It wasn't dead, but Ace didn't go for a finishing move at all. He patted the gorilla's arm. “Good try, big guy,” he murmured, and then moved off into the brush.

The camera followed him, and Marco felt a goofy smile cross his face at Ace's actions. Ace was such a tough guy when it came to fighting other pirates and marines, but he had a soft spot for animals – when he wasn't hunting them for food. Ace had left the big gorilla alive because it was leading its troop and there were a lot of smaller gorillas peering through the brush with wide brown eyes.

Thatch poked Marco's shoulder, giving him a grin of his own. “He's a good kid, Marco,” he said nudging his arm with his own. “A real good kid.”

Marco elbowed him back. “I know that.”

“How's the search going, though?” Izou had his arms folded and was staring at the screens featuring Brute (who had apparently been named something with far too many consonants and not enough vowels, and so Marco had decided to keep him as Brute). Brute was shuffling through the boiling landscape, knocking over rocks and digging through burning dirt with the axe, searching for the mini-treasure chest hidden somewhere in the field. “This one still seems.... determined.”

Marco shrugged. “Hard to tell.”

Thatch butted in again. “Actually, Ace is doing a modified grid-pattern search. Haven't you been watching? He goes up and down the jungle and then side-to-side, narrowing down the field as he goes. Once he gets to the end, he'll go South before returning North and heading to the East.”

Kingdew peered at the screens. “I do believe Thatch is correct,” he murmured a moment later. “Watch Ace's eyes as he moves. He needs to move around obstacles and opponents, but he is always heading due West.”

Marco watched and realized that Thatch was right. Despite looping around to deal with a rogue bear, leading it on a small chase and then trapping it in its den with a small rock slide (Blenheim was most impressed at how easily Ace used his pipe to dig into the surrounding cliffs and give it a solid kick that broke the rock free), Ace unerringly backtracked through the trees and returned to his methodical search. He was scanning back and forth, eyes never resting on something for more than a moment before checking another spot, kicking at undergrowth with his feet to check for hidden caches and all the while... whistling?

Understanding hit him. “He's warning the wildlife that he's coming,” he chuckled.

Izou smiled behind his fan. “He's a good boy,” he repeated Thatch's earlier words.

Suddenly Ace's head snapped up. Even having observation haki didn't help the Whitebeards – they weren't in the field with Ace, so they couldn't see what caught his attention. There was no noise, no rustling of leaves, but Ace was staring narrowly at the trail behind him, slowly twirling his pipe behind his back in readiness.

“I don't see anything,” Haruta said, sounding frustrated. “What's he looking at?”

Kingdew and Fossa were glaring at the monitors. “No tree movements, no sounds...”

Ace leaped backwards on the viewing screen and neatly back-flipped into a crouch on a pile of large boulders. Right where he'd been standing, not two seconds later, the ground shook, sending leaves into the air and setting rocks to shaking. Then the earth parted and a monster-sized mole-rat launched itself from the tunnel it had been steadily digging behind him.

“Ace could feel the vibrations!” Thatch said, smacking his fist into his palm as he figured it out.

On the monitor, Ace grinned fiercely and pushed off against the stones, flying at the teeth-gnashing creature fist first. His punch landed square on the bristly nose, sending it flying into a nearby tree. A sudden crack signaled the breaking of its neck as it hit at an awkward angle. The body twitched for a moment and then went still.

Ace cocked his head, sighed, and tipped his hat at the rat before moving on.

“Call it?” Kingdew asked over the roar of the crowd that had apparently fallen in love with Ace and was cheering his successful kill.

“It attacked Ace first, and Ace responded. The death was quick and clean. Shouldn't be a penalty.” Fossa nodded his head as he spoke. “Just a guess, though.”

  
“Well, compared to Mr Muscles over here,” Haruta said, jerking his thumb at the screen showing Brute's slow but steady progression. “He's killed everything he's come across so far, even critters that didn't bother him first. He's gotta be losing points with the judges for that.”

“True, but if he finds the treasure fast enough, the bonus points might be enough to cancel out his penalties,” Thatch said, waving the rulebook. “It's still anyone's guess unless Ace happens to trip over the treasure.”

There was a squawk on-screen. The Whitebeards looked up as one just in time to see Ace's face hit the dirt, having tripped over a small, gold treasure chest.

Marco smacked his face in disbelief. Izou rolled his eyes and looked at Thatch. “You were saying?”

 

* * *

o0o

* * *

 

 

 

The crowd was roaring as The portals opened and an exuberant Ace leaped through, golden box held aloft in one hand, pipe in the other. The pinkette in blue who had escorted Ace to the portal in the first place, was giggling and running her hands over Ace's arm. She was probably just congratulating him, but if she didn't remove her hands, then Marco was going to. Permanently.

Thatch laughed – most likely at the expression on Marco's face – before latching onto Marco's arms as a precaution. Kingdew settled a heavy hand on his opposite shoulder. Both of them knew that Marco could kick both their asses without breaking a sweat, but that would cause a scene, and _that_ would embarrass Marco more than anything else.

After formally announcing Ace as the winner, the referee stepped forward and unlocked the bracelet on Ace's forearm. The young man beamed and sent a series of self-congratulatory fireworks into the air over his head, making the Whitebeards laugh and the crowd cheer even more.

The referee laughed out loud as well. “Is there a chance we could hire you to perform these after every game? We'd save a fortune on chemicals and gunpowder.”

Ace pretended to stroke his chin and think about it.

“Oh, hell no!” Haruta leaped over the railing and raced up the stairs to the podium, followed swiftly by Jirou. The two of them hung off of Ace's shoulders, mock-glaring at the ref. “Ours!”

Holding his hands up, the ref chuckled again and made a show of backing away, while Ace tried to swat his brother's heads.

Behind them, the man who ate the Weight-Weght fruit had gone to meet Brute who'd been led out of portal by the brunette and had just removed the ankle cuff that had given the man his added poundage. Brute suddenly shoved the man into the young woman, causing both to collapse. He charged across the platform connected to the podium with his weapon raised high as he targeted his opponent.

Ace quickly grabbed Jirou and Haruta's arms and shoulder-tossed them off the podium before dodging himself as the giant axe buried itself into the ground.

“Nobody likes a sore loser!” Ace snarled and aimed a fire-fist at the man who blocked the worst of it with the axe's blade, having spent the last several hours doing that in his field.

As he blocked, he twirled the heavy mace and launched it. Ace blinked as he saw a suspiciously shiny sheen cover the weapon – the bastard knew how to use haki? And he couldn't dodge – the pinkette and the ref were directly behind him, and though he had his fire, he was still running on near-empty after such a long game time. He winced and held his hands out to block the mace, knowing full well this was going to _hurt_ \--

Suddenly there was a rush of wind and a flash of blue and yellow. Marco had arrived, winged arms holding him aloft as he blocked the mace with his own haki-covered leg. Marco then neatly spun around, coiling up the mace and yanking the entire weapon out of Brute's hands, catching the axe head by the handle almost as an afterthought. He dropped the weapon to the ground, shaking the last of the chain off of his foot. “Poor sportsmanship,” he drawled.

Brute snarled and bull-rushed them. Marco didn't bat an eye as Thatch was suddenly there, swords out and slicing almost too quickly for the average eye to see. Brute tripped over his own clothes as they fell to pieces around him, leaving him in a what appeared to be a furry pair of boxer-style undershorts.

“I didn't need to see your man-panties!” Thatch moaned, covering his eyes.

Haruta howled with laughter as she and Jirou regained the podium and delivered a double punch to Brute's midsection, sending him flying across the stadium. He smacked into the cement walls that lined the arena, protecting the spectators, before falling limp to the ground unconscious.

The Savage Pirates roared their anger – until Whitebeard stood up and brandished his bisento at them. Then they meekly gathered up their comrade and scurried out the corridor that led to the outside of the stadium.

Ace grinned as he stood with his brothers, watching the rats disappear, and then returned his attention to the screaming fans that were yelling his name and throwing flowers. He waved both his arms in the air and then turned to the referee who was patiently waiting to give him the trophy he'd earned along with the treasure box. His brothers stepped back to allow the visual Den Dens enough room to watch the awarding ceremony.

Then Ace collapsed in a snoring heap, drool leaking out the side of his mouth as the hours of exertion and excitement caught up to him and made his narcolepsy wallop him with a bang. The crowd, not understanding what happened, went silent, and so everyone was able to hear Whitebeard start the chuckles that swept through and infected every last Whitebeard watching from both the stands and the podium until they too, joined in. Marco, shoulders still shaking with laughter, crouched down and scooped up his partner while Izou ascended the podium to accept the prizes on Ace's behalf.

“No one can say he's not entertaining,” Kingdew called out, smirking as the Whitebeards began making their way down the podium stairs to the exiting corridor. While the Savage Pirates exit led them to the ocean, theirs would take them to the banquet that would be in the process of setting up. In the stands, the rest of the Whitebeard group, including Oyaji, began filing their way out of the stadium.

“Agreed,” Marco snorted, glancing down at Ace's sleeping face. “Troublesome brat.”

Ace snored.

 

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o0o

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End

 

Another one I've had on the backburner for about, oh.... two years or so? Maybe three? I dunno, I started it about a year after I got back from China so yeah......

Hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, feel free to leave a tip for your hard-working author who needs tips to survive this cold cruel world...* _peeks up to see if anyone's falling for it*_


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